


Triad

by gearstation



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 18:55:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12174678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gearstation/pseuds/gearstation
Summary: Charlotte and Niles navigate their relationship with their lord and with each other.





	Triad

**Author's Note:**

> Ayyy nothing like custom MUs to make me write something for the first time in 5 years. Here's my visuals of Atlas if you'd like!: https://imgur.com/a/JfIzS  
> Please enjoy!

From an early age, Niles had developed a habit of pausing to eavesdrop before he opened any door. This had saved him countless times in the past: a moment's listen spared him from the wrath of a harried mother, the cruel humor of his bygone thieves gang, the end of a blade from his lord’s fleeing target, or from that same lord's ire when Niles dropped in at a revealing moment. (Not that the last one particularly stopped him from teasing poor Leo.)

While it emerged from a sense of self-preservation, the old habit now allowed him drink in the sounds of his found family as they went about the day in their royal treehouse. Charlotte’s voice carried in both its perky and raggedy forms, no matter the conversation subject, and though his voice was softer than Charlotte’s Atlas could never muffle his heavy footsteps. Even the ambience of the prince’s ever-present retainers, maids, and butlers had grown on him, though the butler in particular made it quite clear that the feeling wasn’t mutual.

Today Niles heard nothing as he pauses by the doorknob. Quiet was settled over the room. If he strained for it he could almost catch the soft ticking of the clock on the far wall. If the room was empty, his constantly-occupied prince must be making rounds in the camp, then; and Charlotte--

“Gods _damnit,_ ” echoed a soft hiss through the wooden doorframe. Niles corrected himself: Charlotte was home, and by the sound of it was sitting at the tea table doing Gods know what. Her audible irritation, sharp and swift, settled his face into a fond grin; he would never get tired of the dichotomy between her public facade and the real personality she let slip to him and Atlas in private.

When he swung the door open Charlotte was sitting just as he predicted, leaning back in one chair with her legs propped up in another. An embroidery hoop sat in her lap and her finger was in her mouth-- judging by the curse, Niles figured she had pricked herself in the endeavor. He almost wished he had stepped in a moment sooner, so that he could have suggested _he_ suck her finger clean and gotten a face full of her displeasure himself.

The surprise on her face at his sudden entrance relaxed into recognition, and the tension in her posture dissipated. “Oh, it’s just you,” she said, finger dropping back into her lap. “Welcome home.”

“Just me?” he teased, even as he picked up her legs and slid into the chair himself. “I’m _so_ sorry that I wasn’t our Prince Charming.”

She snorted dismissively but laid her feet back in his lap, unwilling to either indulge in his self-flagellation or give up her comfortable sitting position. He let her, hands coming to rest on her shins.

The comfort with which he settled into idly massaging her calves would be alarming to a former Niles. Were he not used to actively practicing it with both Charlotte and Atlas, the connection of physical and emotional closeness would mean too much, would show too much vulnerability, to be worthwhile. As it is, watching the way Charlotte slumps further in her seat to enjoy the sensation warms the inner part of him that he had recently identified as his heart.

“If we’re honest, I’m almost glad it was you and not him,” Charlotte admits after a few minutes of comfortable silence, idly watching his hands find the knots in her muscles. “I wasn’t ready to feel nervous.”

“Nervous,” he repeated, admonishing even as he knew exactly what she meant.

“Oh, come on.” She dug her heel into his thigh, pouting. “The way he looks at us like the sun shines out of our asses is so much pressure sometimes.”

Niles laughed. “Well, don’t let him hear you. You’ll upset him.”

“Gods, I _know_ . And it’s not that he’d be upset _at_ me, he’d be upset _for_ me! Every time, I swear.”

Niles cannot forget the first time he himself experienced _‘the Atlas treatment,’_ as the prince’s family liked to call it. The man had a habit of leaning in when speaking to someone, trying to lessen the disturbingly large height advantage he had on absolutely everyone, and his unwavering eye contact was almost maddening. Niles had heard of Atlas from his lord Leo, of course, but meeting him and suddenly having to account for him in the tumultuous wartime that followed Atlas’s release from confinement was an emotional climate that failed to mesh with the casual kindness Atlas exuded. It only took a few meetings for Niles to grow sick of it. He was tired of Atlas’s saccharine-sweet attempts to connect because it couldn’t _possibly_ be genuine, and when Atlas asked after his history, revealing some of the horrors he’d experienced growing up was a test of how much the affable Prince could take before he’d break.

And Atlas _did_ break, but not in the way Niles expected. Instead of distate, he looked grieved. Hearing that Niles had to double-cross unsuspecting Nohrians for a crust of bread or a stab in the gut inspired no disgust, no shallow pity, no anger or discomfort-- it only made Atlas mourn for a young Niles’ hardship.

_I am sorry that you had to suffer so,_ he had murmured. His piercing red eyes hadn’t looked away for a moment, even in their anguish.   _No one should have to live with that kind of burdened past. But... I am relieved to have a chance to meet you in a better present. And I will do anything in my power to improve your future, as well._

Such pretty words coming from a pretty mouth, Niles had thought, but could no longer bring himself to feel quite as bitter as before. Leo was his true liege, the prince to which he had sworn his life, but Atlas was the most princely man Niles had ever met. He mourned for the suffering of his people like storybook royalty of old-- and Niles had gotten a face full of it.

But enough reminiscing. Niles shook his head, coming back to himself, and glanced up at Charlotte through a half-lidded eye. “And yet we love him for it, the sap.”

“It’s true,” said Charlotte, and sighed, partly in fond exasperation and partly because Niles rubbed the section of her calf where her armor strap always rested. He smiled, and dug his fingers into it, satisfied with the groan she emitted in response.

“That’s perfect,” he purred.

“I was about to say the same,” she laughed, crossing her legs in the other direction so that Niles would switch calves. “If some noise is all it takes to get a massage out of you, I got off pretty damn well here.”

Charlotte went back to her embroidery, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and picking up her needle with renewed intent. Niles took the opportunity to watch her openly, admiring her cast-down eyelashes and the swell of her breasts peeking from the neckline of her dress as she leaned over her work.  Her upper arms, bare in the casual outfit, revealed robust muscles with her every movement, reminding Niles that despite her smaller stature she was every bit as powerful as Atlas. But their similarities ended there-- where Atlas was soft and accommodating, Charlotte was sharp and followed her own agenda. She knew what she wanted and didn’t hesitate to tell Niles off when he had displeased her, which made her both easy to handle and satisfying to tease.

He had thought her shallow at first, just as he had Atlas, but she had proven him wrong in an entirely different fashion. It wasn’t until she had nearly caved his head in for getting in her way that he realized her coy and kittenish demeanor had a point, and even when she seemed to be floating without direction she was in reality barreling towards her goal. Charlotte had her share of lumps, like him-- scraping by as a child and getting demoted from the Royal Guard after the expectations of men pulling her in too many different directions-- and she had learned to deal with it, and had no patience for any more trouble. It was intoxicating to watch.

By the time Atlas came forward to formally court them both, Niles had come to love her just as much as the prince. Having another person around to humorously weather Atlas’s gut-wrenching sentimentality like a pair of war-torn soldiers wasn’t so bad, either. Time alone with Charlotte meant simple needs, simple pleasures, and the easy banter of close friends.

“So what are you doing?” he finally asked, nodding to her work. Charlotte’s cheeks pinked, apparently embarrassed by the question.

“I was catching up with Lady Camilla. She’s pretty big on noble pursuits, and I was getting rusty, so we sat down for some embroidery.” She sewed another stitch before tucking the needle into the fabric for safekeeping, and sheepishly turned it around to show him.

“Well, well,” said Niles, but he couldn’t keep the genuine surprise out of his voice. While only half-finished, the dark outline of his eyepatch stood out clearly from the white fabric. Its quintessential gold cross glittered in the center, neatly sewn with a deft hand and an intricate thread and perfectly mirroring the patch currently adorning his face. Charlotte’s fingers curled around the hoop in anticipation of his response, and Niles felt his organs crush themselves together in an effort to process his swelling sentiment.

“Charlotte…”

“Oh my Gods, stop,” she blustered, even though he had barely said anything. “Atlas-- Atlas gets embroidery from Lady Camilla and Lady Elise all the time, so it’s not like he needed any from _me_ . I mean, I’m sure he’d _love_ it, but-- whatever. So, of course-- I just-- I just made it for you, is all. It’s just--”

Niles pressed his fingers into her leg to stop her from babbling further, and lifted himself from under her to dip in and kiss her mouth, easy and soft. Charlotte stopped fussing just shy of accidentally snapping the embroidery hoop in her grip, but he could feel her embarrassment burning below the surface.

“I am _so_ terribly fond of you,” he murmured, bent over and leaning his body in heavily enough to make her tilt her head back.

“Yeah, well,” she managed, chewing on her lip where he’d kissed it.

“Let me return the favor,” he said. Before she could protest he dropped to a knee between her legs, his hand sliding to squeeze gently at the inside of her thigh. His motions teasingly mirrored the innocuous massage he’d been busy with only moments ago.

“Seriously?” She tried to look grouchy, but Niles had been around long enough to recognize her twisted mouth and blushing face as the pleased acceptance it was (and to know that she could easily toss him away like a ragdoll if she was truly annoyed). She spread her legs wider even as she continued to criticize him. “Atlas will be home any moment now. You’re really going to do this now?”

“Doesn’t that make it even better?” he murmured, letting his lips ghost on her skin. “Let his Highness come home to something fun.”

“I don’t know what to do with you,” said Charlotte, sighing happily, and pressed her thighs around his head with a finality that Niles eagerly accepted.


End file.
